


The Rule Broken

by Nightscrawl



Series: The Meaning of More [14]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22112263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightscrawl/pseuds/Nightscrawl
Summary: In the immediate aftermath of Adamant, Judah and Dorian give each other comfort and reassurance.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Male Trevelyan, Dorian Pavus/Male Warrior Trevelyan
Series: The Meaning of More [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/974214
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	The Rule Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [Schattenriss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenriss/pseuds/Schattenriss) for doing the beta.

Griffon Wing Keep was quiet. The usual bustle of activity that marked the only trading post in the area was nowhere to be found that evening as troops trekked in, fresh from the fighting at far-flung Adamant Fortress. The Inquisitor had been victorious! He had deprived Corypheus of his demon army and brought the fabled Grey Wardens into the fold. The clank of serving and eating utensils, and the murmur from soldiers around cook fires were the only sounds.

Judah and Dorian crawled into their tent, exhausted in mind and body. Both still fully armored, they lay there for a few minutes in silence.

Despite their victory at Adamant, since the escape from the nightmare demon, self-doubt began to gnaw its way through Judah’s mind. It seemed that everything hinged on _him_. But he didn’t know if any of the decisions he made were good, or what far-reaching consequences they would have. Then there was Dorian, a wonderfully distracting mental splinter that he could not, and did not, want to extricate. He worried for his safety, but it was more than that. When he wasn’t around him, he wanted to be. He thought about him constantly: wondering what he was doing or thinking at any given moment, what his opinion on such-and-such a matter might be, what excuse he could fabricate to walk by the library and talk to him briefly, just to be in the man’s presence. They were practically living in the same room and saw each other multiple times a day and still it was not enough.

At that moment, Dorian could not contend with his roiling emotions. He was unable to escape the fear and anger he felt at the circumstance he found thrust upon him. Lingering fear from the Fade, continued fear for the future, fear for himself and fear for Judah. It was all so frustrating that the fear bled into anger as he tried to deal with it.

Fresh in Dorian’s mind was the feeling of loss. He’d thought Judah was dead, that he’d lost him, that he’d _finally_ lost him, as he’d lost everyone else. The thought was nearly unbearable. That first night, he felt it would be so easy to let his guard down and be swept away by feelings for this other man, even saying so to Judah: cutting it off there, that night, would be easier than drawing out the pain of a later break. Judah was easy to love: he was caring and thoughtful, reckless in his bravery, honest, determined, hopeful, romantic, sexy, and could read him so well it was sometimes frightening. Dorian loved him so much it hurt. He almost didn’t want to feel this way. _Almost_. He didn’t want something, and someone, it would hurt to lose. He felt the inevitability of it.

With a sigh, Judah sat up and began to remove his armor. Dorian reached over to help him, by this time familiar with the order in which he wanted everything removed. Judah did the same for him, and when they were done, each dressed only in smallclothes and a light shirt, they shoved everything toward the rear of the tent, to be forgotten until the next day and the start of the long return journey to Skyhold.

They both lay staring up at the cloth of the tent, the light fabric of their clothing letting their body heat escape into the cool night air of the desert.

Judah raised the hand with the Anchor and looked at it, speaking low so that his voice didn’t carry. “I can’t stop thinking about the Fade, and the divine, or… the not-divine, whatever she was. She said I’ll have this for the rest of my life, even if we can manage to defeat Corypheus. Those _stupid_ wardens. And I don’t know _what_ to think about Loghain,” Judah sighed. “Ferelden’s most heroic villain. Or would that be the most villainous hero? I had to choose, you know, between Loghain and Hawke. They each volunteered to stay and provide a distraction for that disgusting spider-thing. I thought—”

He’d had enough. Dorian rolled over onto Judah and kissed him firmly. He didn’t want to hear about the Fade anymore. He didn’t want to _think_ about the Fade. He didn’t want _Judah_ to think about the Fade. He wanted to taste his mouth and feel his skin and not think about _anything_. “Stop talking,” he said, a quiet command a mere inch away from Judah’s mouth.

Happy to comply, Judah raised his head the short distance to resume the kiss. Although they were tired, he saw they both had the need for distraction and reassurance. They became lost in each other’s mouths: wet, warm, smooth teeth, textured tongue; all were pleasing.

Judah held Dorian’s face in his hands for a few moments, then went behind, enjoying the feel of the hair sliding through his fingers. He lingered, closing his fists in a light grasp, and then moved on.

Dorian maneuvered one hand under Judah’s neck for support while they kissed, while the other rested against his scalp. Had his hair been longer he would have run his fingers through it, but he had to content himself with lightly petting the soft fuzz his lover had.

Fingers slightly bent, Judah raked down Dorian’s neck and back, all the way to his butt. Feeling the heat of the other man’s body radiating through his smallclothes, his discontentment with the barrier of fabric increased in proportion to his own arousal. His hands slid up once more, moving beneath the undershirt. After giving the small of Dorian’s back a light caress, he slipped under the rim of the smallclothes to the bare flesh.

Legs astride, groin-to-groin, Dorian could feel Judah hardening against him. A warm flush moved through his body as a wave, from groin to face and feet, as his body responded. He released a quiet, pleased moan into Judah’s mouth, enjoying all of the sensations the other man could arouse in him.

Judah wanted more; he wanted to feel everything. As he had many times before, he moved his hands between them to pull at the laces of Dorian’s smallclothes. Once undone, he grasped the warmth inside.

Dorian rocked his hips, a simultaneous grind against the hardened heat beneath him and thrust into Judah’s hand. The synchronous pleasure caused each man to release a soft moan and break the kiss. Pausing in their action, he hovered over Judah. The fog of lust began to clear from Dorian’s mind; he thought of a thing, an important thing. “What about our camp rule?”

Judah almost laughed at the absurdity of the question, thinking that they were too far gone to stop, but he did not. Appreciating Dorian for his consideration, he kissed him lightly. “We almost died, Dorian,” he said, nearly a whisper. “I’m alive. You’re alive. I don’t care about anything else right now.”

Dorian smiled at Judah’s words, realizing they felt the same. The smile turned arch as he said, “Despite being surrounded by mages and healers of all sorts, you did bring along your handy elfroot, yes?”

“Saddlebags,” Judah said with a grin, and attempted to reach for his own behind them. Dorian’s weight on him meant that he was unable to move, and they sat just inches from his stretching fingers. Laughing, Dorian leaned over him to grab them himself and Judah protested, “Well, you are sitting on me.”

“That I am,” Dorian said, beginning to rummage through the saddlebags for what he knew Judah had there. He saw socks, smallclothes, undershirts, and bandages, but not the thing he sought. Judah didn’t bother to hide his amusement at his frustration. “You could just tell me where it is. This is yours, after all.”

“This is much more fun.”

Dorian grunted but otherwise had no response as he continued his search. There was a tiny book, smaller than his palm and nicely bound, containing the Chant of Light and other miscellaneous religious texts in a single, portable volume; this surprised him as he’d never seen Judah reading from it. And a… comb? “What is this for? You don’t even _have_ hair to comb!”

Judah covered his mouth to keep from laughing too loudly. “It’s for you actually, in case you lose yours.”

“Maker’s breath, I’m not that vain, am I?”

“You can be, but it adds to your charm.”

“That is sweet though, thank you…” Dorian said, trailing away, distracted as he continued looking. Finally, he found it; wrapped in a protective sock to cushion during their riding was the vial of elfroot oil. Venting the last of his annoyance, he shoved the saddlebags away. “Now, where were we?”

And so it was that at this end of a long, harrowing, tumultuous day, they sought comfort, reassurance, and pleasure from one another, each giving and receiving. Despite their mutual tendency to become lost in sensation and fun, they were mindful of their surroundings, with each man, in his own way, attempting to quell the sounds of his own pleasure. Afterward, slick with sweat, they lay side-by-side in the tent while their breathing slowly returned to normal.

Judah felt sleep beginning to claim him but forced himself awake to do one more thing. Reaching for his own shirt, he wiped down both Dorian and himself; Dorian just lay there and allowed him to do this, not having the energy for much else. He then tossed the shirt aside and went again to lie next to his lover.

Growing chilly, Dorian roused himself enough to pull the covers around them and rolled over onto his side, Judah curling around him. Truly exhausted now, they were both asleep a few heartbeats later.

* * * * *

The next morning, their position unaltered from when they fell asleep, they lay drifting on the edge of wakefulness, knowing they should rise but enjoying the stillness and warmth. Sounds of morning from without occasionally intruded on their consciousness. Alas, a tapping broke their peace, the sound of a weapon knocking against a wooden support that framed the structure of their tent; the heavy fabric rustled in response.

“My lord Inquisitor,” came a hesitant young voice, “Messere Pavus.”

Fully awake now, Judah sighed and rolled on his back. “Yes, we’re awake. Thank you,” he called, acknowledgement and dismissal in one breath. He barely registered the, “Yes, ser,” in response as he sat up.

“Nooo,” Dorian complained. “I don’t want to _be_ awake.”

Judah put a hand on Dorian’s shoulder by way of consolation. “Come on. The sooner we leave the sooner we’ll be back at Skyhold,” he coaxed. “You can take a bath,” he tempted, “and we can sleep in our bed, in our room, with a door,” he offered.

Warmth suffused through Dorian’s chest at the phrasing. “Three doors,” he reminded, turning to look at Judah.

“That’s right.”

Dorian sat up with a sigh, stretched, then noticed Judah looking at him adoringly. “What?”

“It’s… here,” Judah said, smiling, then turned Dorian to face him. Sweat from the night before had stiffened his hair as they slept, leaving it flattened on one side. He combed his fingers through it, smoothing it down. He knew Dorian would adjust it later, but the temptation had been too great to resist. Leaving his fingers to linger, he said, “I really… enjoyed it,” in lieu of saying that other thing.

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Of course you did. You’d better have. I wouldn’t do that in the middle of nowhere, _in a tent, on the ground_ , for just anyone, you know,” he said. After a pause, he added, “So did I.”

“We’re not actually on the ground since we’re inside the keep. The floor is stone.”

“Details. It’s more dramatic my way; it calls greater attention to my sacrifice.”

“Didn’t you just say you enjoyed it?”

“Details,” Dorian said once more, then leaned forward to give a light kiss.

They separated and began to dress, but some parts of their kit would wait until they were out of the tent and standing or able to sit properly. Judah piled stray parts of his armor by the tent flap and waited for Dorian to make final adjustments to himself.

As they were about to exit, Dorian made a _tch_ sound and said, “ _Venhedis_. I should have cast a muffling spell, then we needn’t have tried so hard to be quiet.”

“Does that mean I’m as much a distraction for you as you are for me?”

Dorian grinned. “That depends. How much of a distraction am I?”

“Enough to make me forget I’m Inquisitor for a while.”

“And I daresay you’ve made me forget myself on a few occasions.”

Judah smiled and asked, “Back into the world?” hand poised near the tent flap.

“Mm-hmm.”

After the relative darkness of the tent, both men squinted in the morning sun. The keep was busy. Soldiers bustled to and fro, shoving bits of breakfast in their mouths as they packed or made other preparations to leave. Those who were permanently stationed there helped them along; it was plain to see they wanted the keep to themselves again in order to get back to their normal routine.

Standing now, they were able to complete their dressing. While Judah was buckling on his greaves, Varric came over with a cup of tea for each of them. “You two had fun last night.”

Securing a glove, Dorian accepted the proffered cup and looked at Judah to see what the response would be. He saw color tinge the other man’s face as he completed his task.

In forming the “camp rule,” as Dorian called it, the reason had been exactly as Judah stated at the time: it was a private activity between the two of them and he wanted it to remain that way. He loved Dorian. He was not ashamed of it, or him, or anything they did. The minor embarrassment was only that this most intimate of activities had been heard, nothing more.

“Not that such details are any of your business,” Judah said, a note of warning creeping into his voice, “but yes, we did.” The response was matter of fact, without tease or suggestion. Judah nodded his thanks for the tea, offering no further remark.

Dorian raised his own tea and drank, hiding the grin spreading across his face.

End.


End file.
